Changes and Changeling

I just saw Changeling and it was the scariest film I've ever seen directed by Clint Eastwood. And I cried as well. It was maybe a bit too obvious sometimes, and I missed the typical sardonic humour which Eastwood is so good at, but on the whole it was a good film, and beautiful to look at.

It was set in Los Angeles in the late 20s, and it was not a pretty picture it painted of the city. "How could people be so cruel back then" you wondered. And then you read a story in the International Herald Tribune about a Palestinian mother who watched her children burn to death after being bombarded with white phosphorous and you realize that people are just as cruel today.

In Washington Post today, ex-president Bush's speechwriter Marc A. Thiessen wrote a column where he bragged about the fact that Bush could say that on his watch no terrorist attack occurred on American soil since 9/11, and he wondered (or rather questioned) if Obama would be able to say the same. That's a bit of a thin argument, since it's equally true that on Bush's watch the worst terrorist attack ever on American soil took place. But never mind, I understand if the team around Bush are upset and maybe even scared. 

Me, I'm tired after a very long and varied day. Good night.

Books I've read lately

I've started the year by reading After Dark by Haruki Murakami and L'Africain by J.M.G. Le Clézio. Haruki I've read before, he's a favourite of mine, and After Dark didn't disappoint. It's short, precise and to the point, whilst also dreamy and horrorlike. The writing is, as always, wonderful, this time translated by Jay Rubin. It does benefit from being read from cover to cover, preferably at night of course. It takes place during one night, involving a young man playing jazz, a young woman reading, a Chinese prostitute in trouble and the violent man who beat her up and stole all her possessions. There's no reason why these four people's lives should be interconnected, except that they are.

L'Africain hasn't been translated into English yet, but I've read the Swedish translation, (Afrikanen), and it was rather good. It's only 88 pages, about Le Clézio's childhood and in particular his father. It's a quick rewarding read, both if you want to learn more about the author and/or what it was like being the son of a white doctor working in colonized Africa.

I've also begun reading His Illegal Self by Peter Carey, but more on that when I'm through. I does seem promising.